Child of the Mark
by potterfreak
Summary: AUOC Remus is long gone and his widow is determined to find a cure for the dread disease lycanthropy. But a new werewolf, one with a thirst for her blood, is terrorizing Britain. Can she and Harry find and stop him before he gets to Remus's sons?
1. The Ever Necessary Disclaimer Page

The Ever Necessary Disclaimer Page.  
  
I, Potterfreak, being of slightly sound mind and ever less sound body, hereby proclaim this story to be entirely my own WITH the exception of anything that sounds remotely like something someone else invented. (In this case, particularly JK Rowling) 


	2. The Start of Something New

CHAPTER ONE: The Start of Something New  
  
"Hermione, let me help you with that," said Roxanne, taking the younger woman's shoulder bag. "I'll take it upstairs for you. Why don't you go lie down in the sunroom for a while. I'll have Dobby bring you some tea."  
  
Hermione nodded. They'd spent a wonderful day shopping after staying the night in Diagon Alley-a girl's weekend away while their husbands were off with the children to watch Harry play Quidditch in Spain. But now Hermione was exhausted--the added weight of a nearly full-term baby tiring her quickly despite the potions Roxanne made for her. She lay on the heavily cushioned couch and soon fell fast asleep.  
  
Roxanne took her bags upstairs and checked the children's rooms for the first time since they'd left. They were filthy-toys, books and clothes strewn haphazardly around. The twins' room was the worst. The remainder of today would be spent cleaning them out while the children were not at home to protest when she discarded broken gadgets and scribbled-on bits of parchment that to a grown-up were junk, but to a child was some warped interpretation of a treasure.  
  
Dobby the house elf soon appeared, coming down the hallway. He'd come tagging along with Harry after his graduation from Hogwarts School nine years before and had lived and worked there since "Welcome home Mrs. Black!" he squeaked. "Dobby is very happy to see Mrs. Black and Mrs. Weasley safely home."  
  
"Hello, Dobby," Roxanne said cheerfully. "Any word from the boys?"  
  
"No. But I've only just come from Hogwarts."  
  
"I'm sure they're having too much fun to think of writing. Hermione is in the sunroom. If she's not sleeping could you take her some chamomile tea? And put a little Echinacea in it-it sounds like she's coming down with something. I don't want her sick for the birth."  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Black. Will there be anything else?" said Dobby.  
  
"Actually, yes. I'll need a very large dustbin brought upstairs. I'll be cleaning the children's rooms today."  
  
Dobby nodded sadly. He knew how these cleaning tirades of their mother's upset the children. But he dared not risk Roxanne's ire by interfering. She was like a lioness when it came to matters of her children and doing what she felt was right for them, to them, or by them.  
  
A couple of hours later, with Samantha's room done and Marielle's room begun, Dobby interrupted. "Pardon me, Mrs. Black. The Minister of Magic wishes to speak with you at the drawing room fireplace."  
  
She crawled out from under the bed, where she'd just located a long- missing sock whose match lay in the laundry room. "The Minister?" She cocked an eyebrow with surprise. "Tell him I'll be right down."  
  
Dobby disappeared with a faint pop and Roxanne stood, brushed off her shirt, smoothed her flyaway hair and went downstairs. There floating in the green flame was the head of Severus Snape.  
  
"Hello Severus!" she said, smiling broadly. "It's been awhile. How have you been?"  
  
"I'm well, Roxanne. And you?"  
  
"Never better," she said brightly.  
  
"Dobby said Sirius is away. When do you expect him back?"  
  
"He and the children are in Spain watching Harry play. Assuming Harry catches the snitch before too long, I expect them home tomorrow morning."  
  
"With the children? All of them?" said Snape with amazement.  
  
Roxanne laughed. Severus was still a bachelor, and marveled at Sirius' ability to handle his small crowd of children with love and laughter. "Yes, all of them. I'm sure they're having a great time"  
  
Severus shook his head in disbelief before continuing. "I need to speak to the two of you. May I come up tomorrow evening?"  
  
"Tomorrow?" said Roxanne, frowning slightly. "The house will be a little crowded-Harry'll be coming with them, and Ron and Hermione are staying the weekend."  
  
"It's important-it cannot wait," said Snape firmly.  
  
Roxanne shrugged. "As long as you don't mind, will you come for dinner?"  
  
"Dinner would be wonderful."  
  
"Great! Shall we say 6:00?"  
  
"No. I have a meeting and I'm not certain we'll be through by six. Seven would be better."  
  
"Seven will be fine. I'm looking forward to seeing you again."  
  
"As I," he said nodding. "Tomorrow then."  
  
*****  
  
The Black house stood just a few miles south of Hogsmeade, nestled in a stand of trees beside a high ridge that rose from the black Scottish earth like a whale cresting from the sea. The land had been a gift from Roxanne's father, received nearly a year after his death on the day of her first marriage to Remus Lupin. The marriage ended tragically, the very next day, her beloved Remus killed by a Death Eater's curse. And the land remained empty for several more years, until Lord Voldemort fell, defeated by an army of valiant wizards, led by the young Harry Potter.  
  
Sirius had proposed to her then, waiting until the world was safe again, not wanting to risk leaving Roxanne a widow for a second time. Remus and Lorenzo, Remus' twin sons, were two years old, and already loved by Sirius as if they were his own. Construction on the house began almost immediately after their hasty wedding ceremony, standing in the alcove in Dumbledore's office as they had several years before for she and Remus' wedding.  
  
As Roxanne wanted, the house was not overly large, but comfortable, with plenty of bedrooms upstairs for children and guests. The main floor held the master suite, a comfortable sitting room, dining room, spacious kitchen and a large sunroom attached to the back. In the basement were Roxanne's potions lab and a large playroom so the children could be nearby while she worked.  
  
Roxanne sat at a small table across from Hermione in the plant-filled sunroom. They were just polishing off a light breakfast of fruit and toast when a voice called to them from the front of the house.  
  
"Roxanne! Are you home?"  
  
Both women rose, Hermione more slowly. Roxanne took Hermione's arm in hers and helped her waddle to the entry hall where they found their families. A little red-haired boy ran forward and hugged Hermione tightly around the belly. "How's baby, mama?" he said, looking at her with a chocolate smeared face.  
  
"Baby is just fine Charlie. I see you've been at the chocolate frogs again," she said laughing. At the same time Roxanne was nearly tackled by her four, each hurrying to tell the exciting parts of their trip before the others could beat them to it. Little Samantha bounced impatiently, searching for a clear path to her mother's arms. But her seven-year-old sister and eleven-year-old brothers had gotten there first. "It's my turn!" she screamed impatiently. Roxanne kissed the boys and Marielle, then pushed them aside and picked up Samantha.  
  
"Did you have fun with Daddy?" she asked her energetic four-year-old.  
  
"Oh, yes! Uncle Harry caught the snitch!" she said, excitedly bouncing in her mother's arms. "And we saw Granddad Lupin there!"  
  
"You did? How is he?"  
  
"He's wonderful. He's got a girlfriend," she whispered conspiratorily.  
  
Roxanne looked to Sirius. "William has a girlfriend? Really?"  
  
"It seems so," he said coming up behind Samantha, taking her from Roxanne, placing her on the ground and scooting her out of the way. "She seems nice. They'd like to come for a visit in a week or two. But I'd rather talk about that later." He wound his arms around Roxanne's waist and kissed her warmly.  
  
Harry groaned. "Take it upstairs, will you?" he said, feigning disgust.  
  
"You're just jealous," said Ron, holding Hermione's hand. "We really need to find you a girl. You're a bloody menace to society."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and headed upstairs with his things.  
  
"Harry," called Roxanne after him, "how long will you be home?"  
  
"Looks like a couple of weeks, anyway," Harry answered. "Coach promised us some time off if we won this match. We'll see if he keeps it."  
  
"Before you disappear," said Roxanne, looking around the room at everyone, "we're having a guest for dinner tonight. I want everyone bathed and beautiful by 6:00. Is that clear?"  
  
A chorus of "Yes ma'ams" greeted her from children and adults alike.  
  
"Second," she continued, "I spent most of yesterday afternoon cleaning children's rooms. See that they stay that way, and that nothing spills out into the rest of the house."  
  
The twins looked horrified, not only at the thought of the damage their mother might have done to their collections, but also at the look of accusation she was throwing them now. She'd obviously discovered more than they intended her to.  
  
"Who is it, mum?" asked Marielle.  
  
"Minister Snape."  
  
"Uncle Severus!" squealed Samantha. Despite Snape's dour mannerisms and sinister appearance, little Samantha had taken to him and enthusiastically threw herself into his arms every time he visited. Snape tried to pretend reluctance, but Roxanne knew he enjoyed the little girl's attention. "He wants to speak to Dad and I, so right after dinner I want you kids to make yourselves disappear."  
  
Sirius frowned and looked at his wife quizzically.  
  
"Would you rather we didn't stay tonight, Roxanne?" asked Ron.  
  
"No. It's fine," she said. "Severus knows you'll be here. Dobby's taking care of dinner, and as long as everyone helps me keep the house cleaned up it'll be no problem."  
  
After everyone had gone their own directions, Sirius took Roxanne's hand and pulled her into the drawing room.  
  
"So what does Severus want?" he asked, concern in his eyes.  
  
"He didn't say."  
  
"Did he seem worried, or upset?"  
  
"No. He seemed fine. He said it was important. Why? Is there something wrong that I haven't heard about?"  
  
Sirius sighed. "Just rumors really. I kept hearing whispers at the match that the Malfoy's have been spotted somewhere. You haven't heard from Arthur?"  
  
Roxanne shook her head. "There was nothing in the Daily Prophet this morning either. I wouldn't pay it any mind. You know how these rumors go. Soon the entire wizarding world will be tunneling underground because they heard some rumor that earthworms can cure warts."  
  
Sirius smiled and nodded. "I suppose you're right. Still, I wonder what he could want with us?"  
  
"We won't find out until tonight, so why don't we try to figure out some way to keep ourselves busy until then," she said, smiling and pulling him close.  
  
*****  
  
"Severus, welcome," said Sirius, taking his hand firmly as the Minister of Magic stepped into the front hall. "It's been a long time."  
  
"Yes, it has. How are the children?"  
  
"They're very well. The boys will be starting at Hogwarts this fall, you know. I can't believe it's been eleven years already."  
  
"And Roxanne?"  
  
"I wouldn't know at the moment. She's liable to be a bit short right now. She's upstairs giving Samantha another bath. She and Charlie decided it might be fun to make mud pies for you. Roxanne nearly blew the roof off the house when she saw them-not to mention the kitchen floor."  
  
Severus chuckled quietly, still after all these years uncomfortable with expressions of humor, not to mention pleasant conversation with his former enemy.  
  
Sirius led him into the drawing room where he exchanged greetings with Harry, Hermione and Ron (who had just come down from giving little Charlie his second bath), as well as the twins and Marielle.  
  
"You'll forgive me if I don't stand, Minister," said Hermione, a hand on her round belly.  
  
"Of course Professor. How much longer?" Snape asked.  
  
"Just a couple more weeks. I'm happy school's over for the summer. I just don't have the energy right now to take anymore botched first-year transfigurations."  
  
At last Roxanne entered, carrying a wet-haired Samantha who wriggled out of her arms the moment she spotted the Minister.  
  
"Uncle Severus!" she called, running to him and jumping into his arms.  
  
Severus picked her up and held her high so her face was level with his. "I understand you're in a bit of trouble, young lady," he scowled.  
  
"Mummy wouldn't let me bring you my present. She said you wouldn't like mud pies. She said I made a mess and that you don't like messes."  
  
"She said that, did she?" said Severus gravely. "Well, she is your mother, and I suppose she may be right." Then he pressed his mouth close to her ear and whispered quietly. Samantha's face brightened and she wrapped her arms around Severus' neck, hugged him tightly and kissed his pale cheek.  
  
Roxanne looked at him with raised eyebrow. "What did you promise her, Severus?"  
  
"I didn't promise her anything. I simply told her the kind of gift I'd prefer-and she gave it to me."  
  
Dobby stepped into the doorway. "Dinner is served, Mrs. Black."  
  
"Thank you, Dobby," she said, and herded her brood into the dining room, the others following close behind.  
  
*****  
  
"May we be excused, Mum?" asked Remus after cleaning the spicy spare ribs and baked potato from his plate, and nudging his twin in the side.  
  
Roxanne surveyed their plates and nodded. "I want you two to keep an eye on the other children while we talk, please," she said firmly enough that the boys knew not to protest. Besides, they were still waiting for her to say something about what she must have found in their rooms, for which she was obviously very unhappy. They decided it best not to do anything to make her more upset. From Sirius' stern looks since lunchtime, she'd apparently discussed it with their stepfather as well. And while he did not pose as large a threat to their eleven-year-old eyes as their mother, it still felt uncomfortable to have him angry with them.  
  
Severus noticed this silent exchange of glares and humble obedience between the boys and their parents, but said nothing about it. Now that the children were gone, he cleared his throat. "There are a couple of things I wish to discuss with you," he began.  
  
"Would it be best if we left," said Harry, indicating himself, Ron and Hermione.  
  
"No. At least not for this first bit. I think it best if you stay and hear this." He sighed heavily before continuing. "Draco Malfoy has been spotted-"  
  
"Draco? Where?" interrupted Sirius hotly.  
  
"In London two days ago."  
  
Roxanne gasped, clutching her arms.  
  
"Roxanne?" said Hermione, a worried look on her face. Roxanne had gone very pale.  
  
"I have goosebumps," she whispered, looking at her arms. "Hermione and I were in London two days ago. We stayed at the Leaky Cauldron. I-I dreamed about Draco that night."  
  
Sirius bolted upright. "You dreamed-Tell me about it."  
  
"I don't really remember much. Just that he was there, not in London though. All I really remember is feeling helpless."  
  
"Are you sure it was only a dream?" asked Severus, concerned.  
  
"What else could it be?"  
  
Severus and Sirius said nothing, but their looks were grave.  
  
"Come on!" she said, exasperated. "If Draco had gotten hold of me I'd be dead! Or at the very least bloodied up a fair bit. You'd be scraping my body off the sidewalk right now."  
  
Sirius relaxed a little. "I suppose you're right. Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"It was only a dream, Sirius. I still dream about Remus--that doesn't make him real," she said, smiling slightly and patting his hand. "And that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you every time I have one of those dreams."  
  
"Are you asking us to help look for Draco," asked Harry, leaning forward eagerly.  
  
"I'd be grateful-especially if it were done as quietly as possible," Snape answered. "Arthur and Bill Weasley, to name a few, are on the alert already."  
  
"Consider it done," said Ron. "Harry and I'll go now, if you'd prefer."  
  
"No, thank you, Ron," Severus said. "It can wait until morning. But, I do have a matter I need to discuss privately with Roxanne and Sirius, if the three of you don't mind."  
  
They nodded and followed the children outside into the last few minutes of late-June sunshine.  
  
Sirius rose and fetched glasses and a tall, slender bottle of wine from a sideboard, offering it to Severus. Severus nodded and waited silently as two tall-stemmed glasses were filled. He took his glass and held it, contemplating, in front of him.  
  
"Do you remember, Roxanne," he began, "when you snuck into my storeroom and stole some gin?"  
  
Roxanne laughed. "I don't think I'll ever forget it. I still get queasy thinking about it."  
  
"And you came to me and apologized for it?"  
  
"Yes." She looked at him suspiciously. "What are you getting at, Severus?"  
  
"Your illness, it was all a ruse. Dumbledore allowed me to make a potion-"  
  
Roxanne held up her hand. "I won't make you apologize. I've known about that for years. I'm a potions master, remember? I figured that little puzzle out when I was doing research for a potions assignment a couple of years later."  
  
"Why didn't you say anything?"  
  
"What would be the point? I'd learned my lesson and I figured I was better off without the booze anyway. I haven't touched the stuff since." Sirius poured her a tall glass of cranberry juice and sat back down. "Is that what you came to talk to us about?"  
  
"No. Just clearing my conscience first. I want us to be completely up front with each other-from now on, anyway." Severus stood and paced the floor thoughtfully for a moment. "Have you heard that Headmistress McGonagall has submitted her retirement request?"  
  
Roxanne and Sirius shook their heads, unsure if this was more small talk or if Severus meant something by it.  
  
"She'll not be returning to Hogwart's next year. I've had her request on my desk for a week now. The School Board has since been debating who to hire as her replacement. But the debate ended yesterday. A letter came from Albus. It was a letter of recommendation-for you, Sirius."  
  
Sirius nearly fell out of his chair. Roxanne's face froze in shock.  
  
"As Minister of Magic, I'd like to offer you the job of Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." At Sirius' stunned silence, Severus continued. "It's a big decision, I know-certainly one for you to make together. You'd have to start immediately, and move your family to the castle. I need an answer as soon as possible."  
  
Sirius stared at him, unable to speak.  
  
"I think Sirius needs a little time to think about it," whispered Roxanne. "How much can you spare us?"  
  
"I need to know by tomorrow morning. You can sleep on it, anyway," Severus answered.  
  
"I don't know how much sleep we'll get tonight, but we'll come to your office first thing in the morning and give you our decision," she said, a little worried at Sirius' silence. But finally, he snapped out of his reverie and nodded numbly.  
  
"Good," said Severus. "Now, I think I'd better be on my way. I'll say goodbye to the children and see myself out." And he slipped quietly out of the room, leaving the Blacks staring at each other.  
  
*****  
  
As Roxanne had predicted, they slept little that night. They'd securely tucked the children in bed and gone to their own room, slipping off their dressing gowns and slippers and sitting on the side of the bed holding hands.  
  
"I don't know about this," said Sirius, shaking his head. "Me? Headmaster?"  
  
"You don't think you can do it?"  
  
"I'm awfully young, and, well, I do know the castle inside and out, but there's so much to the job. I won't have a lot of spare time. And the children-"  
  
"You're not that young." He punched her shoulder. She was forever reminding him of the twelve years difference in their ages. "The children will love living at Hogwarts," she soothed.  
  
"Yes, but what about the boys," he said. "I'm not sure it'll be wise to have the sons of the Headmaster attending school there."  
  
Roxanne nodded. "I worried about having them there with Minerva," she said. "I knew she wouldn't have given them any special treatment, but I could just see them getting into some sort of trouble with the expectation that she would. I suppose we could send them to another school. I hear Hawthorne has a great Quidditch program-they'd love that."  
  
"That's awfully far away," said Sirius, unconvinced.  
  
"Well, I don't think we could get them to set foot in Durmstrang or Beauxbatons. I suppose we can try to work things out here."  
  
"Or I can refuse the job," said Sirius with a frown.  
  
"But you don't really want to do that, do you?" asked Roxanne.  
  
Sirius sat perfectly still, thinking over all the possibilities. How could he pass up such an honor. Who did he think he was, feeling even remotely qualified to fill Albus Dumbledore's and Minerva McGonagall's shoes? "What about the house?" he finally said, at this point looking for any small excuse that could allow him to refuse Severus in the morning.  
  
"The house isn't going to disappear," Roxanne said. "We can let Ron and Hermione live in it. That way Harry will still have a place to stay. And it'll still be there when we're ready to retire."  
  
"But it's our home-yours and mine. Do you really want to leave it behind?"  
  
Sirius sighed and slumped back onto the bed. Roxanne turned, leaning over him, her hair falling around his face. He reached up and ran his fingers through it. Brought a large clump of it to his face, smelling its sweet fragrance.  
  
"Sirius, if you don't want the job, just tell him 'no.' But apparently you're the one they want-you're the one Albus wants, for whatever reason. If you haven't learned to trust yourself by now, at least you should have learned to trust him."  
  
Sirius pulled her down beside him, resting her head on his chest and holding her firmly. "It's always been so easy for you to trust Dumbledore," he said.  
  
"Not really," she said softly. "I thought he'd gone off his rocker when he asked me take over for Snape that first year. But I did it anyway. And look where I am now."  
  
"You mean married to an ex-convict, and living with a rogue house elf?" he said.  
  
Roxanne hit him hard in the stomach. "I mean happy," she snarled.  
  
Sirius groaned, clutching his stomach. Then kissed her hair and hugged her tightly. "I'm happy, too. I suppose that means it's time for us to start a new adventure."  
  
"I suppose it does," Roxanne said, pulling herself up and over him, caressing his face and kissing him. "Now, Mr. Black. About your sons. . ."  
  
Swiftly he rolled her over, pinning her beneath him. "Why is it," he snarled, but with a wry smile twinkling at the corners of his eyes, "that they're my sons when they're in trouble, and not Remus's?" 


	3. Wolf Strikes

CHAPTER TWO:  
  
Two eleven-year-olds stood with their chins to their chests and their eyes staring, terrified, at the floor. Their father paced silently before the fireplace, their mother sat with her arms folded menacingly across her chest. In a box at her feet was a collection of forbidding looking devices, each bearing the moniker "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." Their Uncle Harry stood in the doorway, keeping his escape route clear in case things got overly heated.  
  
"Harry," Roxanne said with a great deal more restraint than she wanted to show, "the boys tell me you are responsible for these things being in their room. Is this true?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Partially," he admitted. "Fred and George helped, but it was their idea. Did they tell you that?" He shot the boys an accusing glare, but their eyes were glued firmly to their shoelaces. "I tried to convince them to keep the stuff in my room, but they wouldn't have it. Dobby promised he'd keep an eye out for them-"  
  
"Dobby? He's in on this too?" she spat.  
  
All three nodded. Remus fidgeted nervously, stepping from one foot to the other, rocking side to side as if he needed to visit the restroom very urgently. At last he could take it no longer. He rushed forward, falling to his mother's knee. "I swear, Mum! We weren't going to use them to get into trouble! It was a surp-" But Lorenzo was on him, hissing at him to keep quiet, grabbing Remus in a headlock, nearly tumbling over him, and knocking his knee on the coffee table.  
  
"The trick is up, guys," said Harry. "We don't really have any choice. We've got to tell."  
  
"But, Harry!" they complained together. Despite their physical differences the boys did nearly everything identically, including their annoying habit of speaking simultaneously more often than was natural. Harry figured they must practice at it.  
  
Sirius stopped, looking at his godson, waiting for an explanation. Harry met his eyes and suddenly had an idea. "Sirius, may I speak with you? Alone?"  
  
Sirius looked at Roxanne who frowned and sighed, glaring at them both. Sirius glared back. She was in a mood. Damned stubborn woman. If he didn't love her so much. . . "Relax, Roxanne," he said tersely, and walked out of the room with Harry.  
  
They whispered in the hall for a few minutes, voices rising and falling, shushing each other to keep from being heard. Finally they returned, Harry looking as guilty as ever, Sirius doing his best to maintain a stern frown.  
  
"Well?" said Roxanne, obviously very annoyed. "What is it you two have decided without me?" Sirius supposed he was risking a night on the couch, but steeled himself, squaring his shoulders, strode across the room and picked up the box.  
  
"Boys. Go get breakfast. I'll be taking this," he said, and left quickly, disappearing up the stairs. Harry, Remus, and Lorenzo wasted no time clearing out of the sitting room before Roxanne could overcome her shock and start yelling. They were well in the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards for boxes of cereal when they heard their mother thumping up the stairs after Sirius.  
  
*****  
  
Packing boxes lined nearly every wall of the Black house. It was moving day. Roxanne had her hair tied up on her head, and wore a stained t-shirt and faded jeans. The children bustled about, calling to their mother more frequently than she could tolerate, asking after this possession or that that could not be located. Doing her best to keep her temper, she eventually decided the best thing to do would be to simply ignore them. She had her own packing to do, and if the children lost a thing or two it certainly wouldn't be any skin off her nose-just less junk to unpack once they reached their rooms at Hogwarts.  
  
Minerva had shown them around the Headmaster's quarters the day before. As with many magical houses, the interior far exceeded the confines of the exterior walls. The rooms were spacious and rose high into the tower over the Headmaster's office. There was no kitchen-they wouldn't be needing one, with the house elves constantly at their beck and call for everything from a formal dinner with important guests to a warm glass of milk for a child having difficulty sleeping. There were three bathrooms and five bedrooms. The boys, however, insisted on rooming together, and the fifth bedroom became a playroom. Most of the children's toys would go in there. There was also a separate study for the younger children's schooling and a small sitting room with wide windows connected to the master bedroom. They had a second entrance in the rear, so the family could come and go without disturbing their father in his office. Roxanne would not need a potions lab. The school came equipped with ample space near the potions classroom for her to continue her research. And the children would be fawned over night and day by the child-loving house elves-she'd not need a nanny.  
  
A newly packed and sealed box in her arms she started down the stairs for what seemed like the millionth time, when a large gray owl swooped right at her and dropped a large envelope atop the box before flying off again. It had the insignia of the Werewolf Support Services, a division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She'd received two other such letters in recent months. Neither had been good news. She could only assume that this one would not be either. She struggled with the box to the bottom of the stairs where she put it down and sat on the bottom step, opening the envelope. The first few lines confirmed her worst fear, and she groaned.  
  
"Sirius!" she called, her loud voice carrying easily throughout the house. "Sirius, I need to speak with you!"  
  
He had been helping Samantha pack up her clothes, and appeared almost immediately at the top of the stairs. "Is something wrong?"  
  
She simply held up the letter. He swore quietly as he came down the stairs. "What is it this time? Not another attack?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"That's the third one in four months! And today of all days!" he said gesturing around to the unholy mess the house lay in. "Can you get someone else to go?"  
  
"No. They requested me specifically. It's a kid-nine years old. He's a muggle."  
  
"A muggle? And he survived?" It was rare for a muggle to survive a werewolf attack. Especially a child.  
  
"The Ministry is sending an official to test him for magic. As far as they know he's not shown any magical ability before," she said. She sounded tired, as she always did when she was asked to give a family the worse news they would likely ever hear. In cases of a werewolf attack death was preferable. She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. I need to go."  
  
He sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close and kissing her hair. "It's all right. We'll manage. I have a whole army of house elves at my disposal. Remember?"  
  
She smiled for him. "Thanks."  
  
*****  
  
The boy had been treated in a small clinic in a little town not far from the Scottish border. The bite wasn't overly serious, for a werewolf bite particularly. For the past nine months or so the Ministry of Magic had been monitoring a seeming increase in werewolf activity. There had been a number of reported sightings, both by wizards and muggles, of large wolf- like creatures throughout Britain on full-moon nights. At first it had been only sightings. But after the first attack-a young witch out for a romantic stroll with her boyfriend-the Ministry immediately contacted the Prime Minister's office. Every hospital in Britain was commanded to report any dog attacks to the authorities immediately. The vast majority did not occur on full-moon nights. Most proved to be only dogs. One or two had been rabid. But then a flurry of attacks occurred-two on one night. One had resulted in the death of a muggle. The other left a middle- aged wizard who had just sent his youngest child off to Hogwarts, with a condition that would shorten his now-miserable existence.  
  
Roxanne arrived, after having quickly showered and dressed, a couple of hours before lunchtime. Oliver Wood met her there, as well as a liaison from the Prime Minister's office-a young man with a nearly bald head and long skinny legs. Roxanne knew him well. They'd worked together now for the duration of the nine month werewolf alert. He and his wife had hired her to be their midwife when she became pregnant with their first child.  
  
"Hey, Rodney. How's Maggie?" she said genially to the PM official.  
  
"Great! She felt the baby move for the first time yesterday," he said.  
  
"Right on time. Did that last batch of potions take care of the leg cramps?" she asked. He said they did, and thanked her. Roxanne turned to Oliver.  
  
"Have you read my preliminary report?" he asked, shaking her hand.  
  
She nodded. "And the tests? How did they come out?"  
  
"Definitely positive for magical ability. The family believes we're here from the animal control office. They have no clue."  
  
"You're sure not making this any easier for me, Oliver," she said with a sigh.  
  
"I left it for the best," he said, encouragingly.  
  
She rolled her eyes at him and followed him to the room where the boy lay, his eyes still wide with terror, his hip and thigh heavily bandaged, his leg propped up on a tall stack of pillows. He was clutching his mother's hand desperately. The initial pain would endure for nearly twenty-four hours, with nothing she, or anyone else, could offer to give him relief as the poison spread through his body, transforming the very nature of his cellular anatomy. She'd been working on developing a potion for the agony the boy was suffering, but it was rare to have a subject on whom she could adequately test it. First the subject had to be recently bitten-within a few hours of the attack. Second, they had to agree to risk any number of possible side effects. Third, she would not test it on children until at least a few adults had taken it with no ill effects. Any good potion needed to be tested on numerous subjects, but numerous subjects were not easy to find, and she would not wish for them to be so.  
  
She held her hand out to the father-a Mr. Andrews. "My name is Roxanne Black," she said, introducing herself. "I'm here to help. Oliver, is there somewhere we can speak privately with Mr. and Mrs. Andrews?" They'd been through this drill before. He'd already made the arrangements-a conference room down the hall. But Mrs. Andrews refused to leave the boy's side, especially when he clung to her more tightly at Roxanne's words.  
  
"It's OK. Your mom can stay with you for now, but I'll need to speak with her soon," Roxanne soothed. "Is that all right?"  
  
The boy shook his head vigorously. Roxanne shrugged. "Maybe if I talk to you first?" The boy only looked at her. "Don't worry about it. We'll work something out. But I do need to take your dad with me. OK?" The boy nodded reluctantly at a reassuring nod from his mother.  
  
They walked down the hall-Roxanne, Oliver, Mr. Andrews and Rod. Oliver entered first and pulled out a large office chair for Mr. Andrews to sit in, pointing him silently to it, his face grave. He did not like this sort of thing. It would be especially difficult with a muggle family-things would need to be explained and proven-not an easy task considering his job was to protect non-magic people from ever having to face something like this. But the werewolf attack had taken all the family's protections away. They would have no choice but to live among the magical community. They would not be able to survive the ordeal without them and remain an intact family. Asking people to accept such horrible news was difficult enough, but to also ask them in the same instant to reverse everything they had been taught about the world and the people in it would take some careful doing. That's why Roxanne was here.  
  
Rod sat beside Mr. Andrews and introduced himself. "Mr. Andrews, I'm Rodney LeManns. I'm from the Prime Minister's office."  
  
Mr. Andrews shook his hand numbly. It was just beginning to dawn on him that his son's dog bite was considerably more serious than it appeared. Rod told him Roxanne was an expert on his son's condition, and advised him to listen carefully to everything she said. He turned to her, his expression clouded with worry.  
  
"Mr. Andrews," she began, pacing back and forth in front of the closed door, "there really isn't any easy way to do this, so I'm just going to drop this giant load of muck on you and we'll dig out of it together." She paused, making sure she had his full attention-though she didn't have to worry about it. His eyes were wide with concern for his son, his voice quavering with panic as he surveyed the furrowed brows in front of him.  
  
"What is it? Is it rabies? Is my son going to--?"  
  
"Your son has been bitten by a werewolf," she blurted loudly over his questions.  
  
He froze, stunned, his brain working feverishly to process what he'd just heard. "A-a what?! Did you say a werewolf?"  
  
Roxanne nodded.  
  
He laughed a bitter laugh and stood, his face twisting with confusion, vascillating between hurt and anger and humor like a man with a remote control, flipping channels more quickly than it was possible to see what was on. "What kind of a sick joke is this?" he spat, charging for the door.  
  
Roxanne grabbed his arm and looked him square in the face. "It's no joke, Mr. Andrews. Please sit down and I'll explain."  
  
But he wrenched his arm from her grip. "I've never struck a woman before Ms. Black, but if you don't get out of my way you'll be the first!"  
  
She threw up her hands and sighed. "Give it your best shot, Mr. Andrews. But only if you'll agree to hear me out."  
  
He stared at her, his jaw clenched, his eyes sparking angrily. "Who are you?" he hissed.  
  
"I am a representative of the Ministry of Magic. I am a wizardess. I am here to help you cope with your son's condition. If you need proof, I am fully prepared to give it to you. But I must assure you, that if you do not cooperate we, with the full cooperation of the Prime Minister, will be forced to take your son away from you."  
  
He stepped back. There was no mistaking the seriousness in her eyes. This was no joke, but his brain still refused to process what she was telling him. He paused, thinking, his eyes darting around the room at the three grave faces in front of him. "You said you can give me proof. I want it," he said quietly.  
  
Roxanne slipped off her shoe and stepped back from it, pulled her wand from her blazer and pointed it at the shoe. "Felis Transfigurum," she said, flicking the wand expertly. The shoe changed immediately into a cat-a rather ugly cat that spit and darted around the room, eventually crawling beneath a cabinet, where it growled threateningly. Roxanne sighed. "I never was the best at transfiguration. Damn! Now I have to crawl under there for my shoe."  
  
Mr. Andrews stared at the black space where the cat had disappeared, his jaw hanging slack, his face pale, his forehead beaded with sweat. "He's shocking!" called Oliver, rushing forward and backing Mr. Andrews into his chair before he collapsed. Rodney went to the water cooler and filled a paper cup. "Drink this, Mr. Andrews. I know it's not nearly strong enough, but for now it's all I can do."  
  
Roxanne retransfigured and retrieved her shoe, and slipped it on as the men did their best to revive Mr. Andrews. After several minutes he came around enough to begin speaking again. "How-how did you do that?" he croaked.  
  
"I told you I was going to drop a load of muck on you. Now it's time to start digging out," Roxanne answered evenly. "You have to understand that everything you thought you knew about the world is pretty much wrong. There is magic, real magic, all around you. You have neighbors who have the same abilities I do. There are thousands of us all over Britain, and many thousands more all over the world. In our libraries, fairy tales are not fiction, they are history. Magic blood runs everywhere, and apparently somewhere in your ancestry, Mr. Andrews-or your wife's. Your son has inherited some magical ability, and it's good for him-it saved his life."  
  
"Saved his life? What do you mean?"  
  
"When a young wizard is particularly frightened or angry he can make some very strange things happen, including fending off a fully-grown werewolf in the midst of an attack. Even if he isn't aware of his gift." She looked Mr. Andrews in the eye. "Has your son shown any unusual abilities, or done anything that seemed unexplainable?"  
  
Mr. Andrews, still stunned by what he was hearing, thought as best he could, shaking his head slowly. Suddenly, a light came on behind his glazed eyes, and he looked at her. "Yes," he whispered. "There was this one time-his brothers had been teasing him. He's much younger than they are, small for his age. Somehow he managed to lock them in the garage. They were stuck there until I came home from work and couldn't tell me how it had happened. They had no memory of how they got in there. I was furious," he said, chuckling quietly. "I thought they'd been nipping my gin. Simon told me he locked them in there, but wouldn't tell me how." As Mr. Andrews mind cleared he began remembering more, and went on for five minutes, listing instances of Simon's abilities. Roxanne nodded at each, smiling and laughing at the particularly amusing stories. Mr. Andrews was much more at ease now. The time had come to take him through the more difficult information.  
  
"Mr. Andrews," she said, "You heard me tell you your son was bitten by a werewolf."  
  
He frowned suddenly, nodding.  
  
"Surely you know what that means," she said, leading him to think this through himself. It would sink in better that way.  
  
"He-he's a werewolf?" he asked quietly.  
  
Roxanne nodded gravely. "It's important you understand all that implies," she said. "First, your family life can never be the same. Everything, at least one day a month, will have to revolve around Simon. It will be very difficult to keep your family strong and unified. Your home will have to be modified to accommodate his transformations. He will have to take a strict regimen of medications. You will experience prejudice of the nastiest sort almost everywhere you go. You will be forced to rely on the magical community for support. You will be forced to listen to your son suffer, with no choice but to leave him alone-without comfort, without help. Werewolves often harm themselves during their transformation in their frustration at being cooped up, or because of their mental state beforehand. Your son's life span will be shortened by as much as 30 years. Simon will have to be registered and will fall under certain magical laws governing his movements and his conduct for the remainder of his life."  
  
She stopped, letting this load of information sink in for a moment. Mr. Andrews face had returned to stunned silence.  
  
"That's the bad news, Mr. Andrews. The good news is that we can help."  
  
*****  
  
The entire incident had to be repeated for Mrs. Andrews. But she knew her son better. She accepted that his oddities could finally be explained and actually seemed relieved to finally have reason for it, no matter how implausible that reason might be to a muggle brain. The magic must have come through her line. She also had Mr. Andrews at her side, the boy finally having fallen asleep, to help her through it.  
  
Oliver immediately contacted the Ministry with the accounts of Simon's nearly lifelong magical incidents, and demanded to know who was responsible for missing them.  
  
Roxanne fixed tea for the Andrews' and sat down opposite them, letting them sit silently as they mulled over the ramifications of all they'd just heard. Now the news had to be broken to the boy. Roxanne hoped he was young enough, imaginative enough to accept readily. She knew children were resilient, and knew that of everyone in the family he, who would have to suffer the most, would likely be the most tolerant. She was glad to be able to provide some good news-the potions she could provide to help ease his transformation and heal his body more quickly afterward.  
  
Nearly twelve years ago, Roxanne had begun researching werewolves and potions to help them. Unfortunately the literature was sorely lacking. The bulk of the work that had been done up to that point had been on protecting oneself from werewolves, rather than protecting werewolves from themselves. In recent years a potion had been developed that calmed the wolf inside. During the transformation, the patient, while still dangerous, was able to maintain enough human sense that he or she could lie calmly and wait for it to be done, recognizing the danger they were to others and keeping themselves isolated. Her late husband, Remus Lupin, had benefited from that potion for many years. But it had to be taken constantly, every day, and was difficult to make.  
  
She had never seen Remus transform. He would not allow it. Sirius had told her about it after his death, after she pleaded with him to tell her everything. She had wept through the entire tale. Why had Remus not told her before? Why did he want to protect her from it? In a way though, she had been comforted knowing that his suffering was over.  
  
It was not until several years later, when she began her close association with the Ministry of Magic, that she witnessed her first werewolf transformation. Then she understood why Remus did not want her to see. It was terrifying. The man cried out in agony as his body twisted and writhed with the pain and fear. He told her later that the pain was always the same, even with the calming potion, that the fear never diminished. And while the episodes of wolf-enraged destruction were almost non-existent, the fatigue afterward was as intense as ever-in a way even more so, as if the suppression of the natural instincts of the wolf was more tiring than the restless, violent nights had been.  
  
She began working full-time developing potions that would help relieve the suffering of werewolves. She and Sirius finished the basement, building a potions laboratory, with a nearby playroom for the children. They persuaded Dobby, with Minerva's urging, to come live with them, to help with the housework and the children. Sirius had been wonderful-still was- patiently waiting for her until late into the night sometimes, assisting her where he could, letting her go-assuring her the children would be well cared for-to visit werewolves throughout Europe and test her potions on them. There had been many failures, mingled with a few successes. Now the Ministry recognized three additional potions that could be used to treat werewolves. Still she worked, racing to find a cure. The answer eluded her. But she would not accept that it was not there somewhere in all her knowledge and all her supplies. She began receiving mail and donations from werewolves and their families throughout Europe. Apparently she was one of very few potions masters researching the problem, and of those, she was the only one to have been married to a werewolf, to have borne sons by one, to have loved one.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Andrews were down the hall, still relaxing over a cup of tea, peppering Oliver and Rod with questions. Roxanne sat beside the boy, stroking his forehead, talking unceasingly to him as his body tensed over and over again with the pain. It had been nearly twenty hours now since the attack-he would not be in pain much longer, but often the pain intensified as the process neared completion. She would stay with him throughout, letting his mother be spared the agony of watching it. He would learn to trust her this way as well. He would need to trust her. He had not been told about his condition yet. That could wait. The terror was strong enough right now, but to wait too long would only cause more distress. It would be best to get it all done as quickly as possible and let the healing begin from there.  
  
He had slept little throughout, and the fatigue showed in the dark purple circles beneath his eyes and the paleness of his cheeks. But he would not sleep, for a few more hours anyway. After it was done he would sleep deeply for a day or more. Nothing would be able to wake him-it would be a coma of sorts, but with no head injury, or severe trauma. Simply his body and mind resting after being completely drained of energy, of coping ability, of mental alertness, of spiritual strength.  
  
Oliver and Rod had been busy outside for most of the previous night and that day handling muggle affairs-keeping the muggle doctors and nurses at bay, explaining things to them in terms they could accept, catching odd minutes of sleep propped in wholly uncomfortable chairs. The boy would be transferred to St. Mungo's, the wizard hospital, as soon as this initial phase completed itself and he could travel more comfortably.  
  
Simon cried out, his body shaking violently as a surge of pain tore through him from his head to his extremities. His fingers curled, digging into his palms, his fists clenched tightly. Roxanne had anticipated this. She had cut his nails close many hours before to prevent him from hurting himself. More than once she'd seen patients cut into their own flesh, the blood seeping out between their stiff fingers. No amount of prying would open them-the werewolf and the desperate pain made them too strong. The boys long-sleeved hospital gown covered his muscles that Roxanne knew were tensing crazily, until each sinew could easily be seen beneath the skin. She could see them popping out in his neck and face now. She hoped he had good, strong teeth, that they wouldn't crack under the pressure. She'd seen that as well. Fortunately any damage he did to himself during these final hours could be quickly treated once they had him at St. Mungo's.  
  
The air hissed through his clenched teeth faster and faster, his chest rising and falling at an unbelievable speed. He was nearly through it, just a few more minutes now, then his eyes would roll back in his head, his entire body would relax, he would take one tremendous breath, then lie still as death, his breathing so shallow it took some doing to detect it at all. Roxanne held her face close to his ear, whispering reassuring words, her hand held firmly on his forehead now. "We're nearly through, Simon. Just a little while longer. You're being braver than I ever hoped."  
  
Then suddenly, it happened, just as she knew it would, and he lay still, and relaxed, and serene, as if he were home in his own bed, warm and safe, having been kissed goodnight and tucked in by his mother. And as she knew she would, Roxanne laid her head on the pillow next to his and cried.  
  
*****  
  
"Hey, Hooks."  
  
Roxanne was jolted out of that shadowy state between sleep and awake, where even the slightest disturbance can throw a person's entire day off balance. But this disturbance only brought a smile to her face.  
  
"Hey, Waytoo," she answered automatically. It was Sirius, stooping beside her. Oliver stood behind him looking down at her with a frown on his face. She'd been lying on a couch in the Andrews' home, intending only to rest for a few minutes. The boy slept through the hours spent at St. Mungo's. He was fine, aside from being a werewolf. Most of their time there was spent filling out the necessary forms, registering the boy with Werewolf Support Services. As the hours passed Roxanne felt herself growing increasingly tired. And by the time they had the boy settled at home in his own bed, still sound asleep, she found her eyelids too heavy to keep up, and was soon on her way to sleeping, until Sirius and Oliver came in. Her eyelids were still heavy and she fought to hold them up and to focus on Sirius' face. He held out a glass of ice water, and helped her sit up to drink it.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, worry lining his nearly fifty-year-old face. "I wanted to let you sleep, but Oliver said you're needed. He let me come in and wake you. I hope that's all right."  
  
She nodded, yawned, then stuck a hand down into her glass and patted her face and eyes with the cold water. "He's awake then?"  
  
"I think so," he answered. "Are you up for this right now. It can wait a little while can't it?"  
  
"I'd rather just get it over with," she replied with a sigh. "His parents are well prepared. They've been asking questions all night. That should make it easier-quicker anyway."  
  
"Do you think you'll be home tonight?" he asked reluctantly. "You know what day it is, I assume."  
  
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and rubbed at her temples with her fingertips. "Let me see-it's the fourth, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes. The fourth," he said significantly. "The children would really like you home tonight," he hinted, hoping that through her fatigue she'd cotton on that something more was up than just the children's longing to have their mother back. He had promised Harry he would not divulge the twin's secret to her.  
  
She did not cotton on. As he figured she might, her entire sluggish mind was focused on the boy in the room across the hall.  
  
"Oh, Sirius. There's just so much that still needs to be done," she said, her fatigue growing as she thought about it all, her voice croaking tiredly. "I need to get him started on his suppression potion right away-"  
  
"They were sent home from St. Mungo's with a supply of it."  
  
"-they need to have their house fitted-"  
  
"That doesn't need to be done right away, and you don't need to personally supervise. Your crew knows what to do."  
  
"-and he'll have a lot of difficult nights ahead-"  
  
"Which I'm sure his mother can handle. And," he said, holding up a hand as she began to protest, "she can always call you if things get out of hand."  
  
"But, Sirius, he's just a little boy-" she whimpered as tears began to fall.  
  
"I know he is. But he's not your little boy, and his mother needs to be the one to calm his fears and sing his nightmares away." He took her hands in his. "And your boys need you to be home tonight."  
  
She sighed and nodded, frowning a little.  
  
"I tell you what," he said, lifting her to her feet and holding her tightly to him, "the boy will be released in a few hours, why don't you invite them over for dinner tonight. They can even sleep at the castle if they want. It might be just what Simon needs to perk up after all that's happened."  
  
At last she smiled and looked up into his dark eyes with her deep blue ones. "I just may do that," she said, then kissed him tenderly.  
  
Oliver shuffled uncomfortably behind them until they pulled themselves apart and, arm in arm, headed for the door. He came up close beside Roxanne, a puzzled expression on his face. "What's with the nicknames?" he asked. "Why do you call him Waytoo? What does it mean?"  
  
"I call him Waytoo, because he is," Roxanne said mischievously.  
  
"Is? Is what?" Oliver said, even more puzzled.  
  
"Way too Sirius," she whispered conspiringly.  
  
Oliver stifled a laugh at Sirius' annoyed expression, then coughed and went on. "And what about Hooks? Where'd you get that one?"  
  
"From Remus," she said, and strode deliberately upstairs to the boy's room, avoiding any more of Oliver's questions. 


	4. Where Even Harry Dare Not Go

Chapter Three: Where Even Harry Dares Not Go  
  
A raucous party was just what they all needed. And what better place to hold one than Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Remus and Lorenzo had been working on this surprise for their mother for nearly a year, whispering quietly and sending covert owls to Fred and George Weasley, and communicating with their cousin in Montana to find out everything they could about the American Independence Day. Nick had been very helpful, sending lists of supplies they would need and helping them obtain items that were nearly impossible to find in Britain-like American flags and fat Texas watermelons. It all began on the last fourth of July, when Roxanne had said she missed that celebration. She did not often speak of her home, at least not of missing it. But apparently she thought about it more than she let on.  
  
The entire castle was bursting with red, white, and blue when Roxanne arrived with the Andrews family. Simon had two older brothers, fourteen and sixteen, and between these two, Simon, and the twins, they managed to make the wizard world seem a very inviting place indeed. Lorenzo excitedly showed them the box of wizard fireworks, explaining that tonight they would go to the top of the castle wall to light them. In America, fireworks were never done indoors, they explained, as if the Andrews boys did it all the time. Remus, the quieter of the two, seemed to come into his own as he led them on a furious tour of the castle.  
  
They had a barbecue high on the west wall, sitting in lawn chairs, wearing shorts and sunglasses against the bright sun. 'Thank Merlin it's sunny today,' thought Harry. They all needed it to be sunny today. They all needed to have a bit of a sunburn and some warmth. They cooked hot dogs, hamburgers, and thick steaks over hot coals, magically conjured by the house elves. There was potato salad thick with mayonnaise and mustard, potato chips, watermelons as big as Samantha and plenty of cold soda pop. Sirius and Mr. Andrews enjoyed, tolerated anyway, cold American beer. Harry didn't like it much and stuck to the soda pop. Later they would toast marshmallows and make something Roxanne called s'mores. The Andrews seemed to know what they were.  
  
Remus and Lorenzo doted over their mother, letting her relax in the warm sun while they did everything, with Harry's help.  
  
Simon seemed especially interested in the school. He would, after all, be attending before too much longer. Lorenzo proudly told him that he and his brother would be attending a school in America in the fall. Remus tried to sound as happy about it. In reality he was very nervous about going, leaving his family and everything familiar. Simon looked disappointed. He had hoped to have someone he knew at the school when he started out. Someone he knew would not be afraid of him.  
  
Leaving the older boys behind, the three of them ran out to the Quidditch field as the sun began to set. Lorenzo excitedly described the game to him, making swooping gestures with his hands and arms and telling Simon how great their uncle Harry was at it.  
  
"He plays professionally, you know," Remus said.  
  
"Professionally? Amazing!" said Simon, a look of awe on his face as he stared skyward, trying to imagine it from the boys' descriptions. But in the sky he spotted the waning moon rising over the mountains to the east. He had always liked the moon, until now. Now it filled him with a dread he could not control. He knew the moon meant pain for him-lifelong pain. He shuddered and hugged himself, frowning. "I'd like to go back now," he said quietly.  
  
Remus and Lorenzo looked at the moon as well, then at each other.  
  
"Simon," said Remus, "are you afraid?"  
  
Simon nodded. He was squeezing his eyes shut, trying to keep himself from crying.  
  
Remus had inherited a kind heart from his father. As Lorenzo looked awkwardly on, his brother put an arm around the smaller boy's shoulders and steered him back towards the castle. "My father was only eight when he was bitten," Remus said. "Mum says he was a hero because he never let it turn him into a monster on the inside, even though his body turned into a monster every time the moon was full."  
  
"Your mum says it hurts," said Simon, his lower lip trembling.  
  
"So does a skinned knee," said Remus.  
  
"I think it hurts more than a skinned knee," said Simon.  
  
"I suppose you're right. But my mum'll find a cure. You'll see. She'll find a way to keep it from hurting."  
  
"I hope she finds it soon," said Simon. "I only have twenty six more days."  
  
"You're counting?" said Lorenzo. "You can't count. You'll never be able to have any fun if you're always counting the days until the next time."  
  
"I have to count. I have to know when it will happen. I have to-"  
  
"No you don't. Just buy a calendar with the moon phases on it. Then it'll be there to remind you and you only have to think about it every once in a while." Lorenzo sounded as if this made perfect sense. And in a way it did. But he didn't understand everything Simon would have to endure, and he didn't understand that Simon would always need to know when the moon would be full, even without a calendar to help him.  
  
Roxanne would need to train him, to teach him to change the rhythm of his life to fit into the twenty-nine day pattern that would rule him until the day he died. He needed to count. He needed to know. He needed to think about it all the time until it became second nature. Until that happened, and it could take him several years, he needed to count; to wake every morning with the number on his lips-twenty-six, twenty-five, twenty-four, three, two, one.  
  
"Mum says you're getting a dog," said Remus, trying to brighten the mood a bit. "I wish she'd let us get one. I always wanted a dog."  
  
"Me too," said Lorenzo wistfully.  
  
"My mum's worried," said Simon, grateful for the new distraction. "I'm allergic to dogs. But your mum says I shouldn't be anymore. Anyway, tomorrow we're going to go looking. Your mum says it needs to be a big one."  
  
"I'd love a big dog-a Saint Bernard or something," said Lorenzo. "Maybe he'd eat our little sisters."  
  
Simon and Remus laughed.  
  
"Your mum says a dog'll help me through it. He'll be a friend for me while I'm-well-changed. She says I won't hurt him, as long as he likes me anyway, as long as we form a pack-whatever that means."  
  
"It means," said a voice in front of them, "that you and your dog will be like a family, like brothers." It was Sirius. He had come looking for them. The sun was down now and it would soon be dark enough to light the fireworks. He wanted the boys to help him carry the boxes from the Headmaster's tower. "Lorenzo, you and Remus go on ahead. You know where the boxes are?" They nodded and ran off across the grass, grinning encouragingly at Simon.  
  
Sirius placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and they walked together back toward the castle. "I'm going to tell you a secret, Simon. But you must promise not to tell anyone else. You'll know about it, and doubtless you'll hear legends about it that only you will be able to understand. But you cannot tell what you know-especially if you are to come to Hogwarts."  
  
Simon nodded, a little doubtfully. He had been taught all his life that secrets could be a dangerous thing. Now, in the last two days, with the encouragement of his parents, he was being asked to keep some fantastic secrets. Although he hesitated, he found it a little exhilarating to be trusted with knowledge that most people must never know. "I promise," he said quietly.  
  
"Remus and Lorenzo's father had a packmate, three of them actually. They stayed together all during his transformation, playing, exploring, roaming these very grounds." His arm swept toward the forest. "In those days there was no potion to calm him. He was fierce and uncontrollable, except when he was with his pack."  
  
Sirius paused, considering the boy for a moment before continuing.  
  
"I was one of his packmates."  
  
Simon started. "But, why didn't he bite you? Could he tell that you were his-"  
  
"He didn't bite me because I took the shape of a dog. The others took animal forms as well. As long as we were creatures, not humans, he could not harm us-couldn't infect us anyway. I suppose we risked him hurting us- he certainly had the strength to do so. But we were friends long before then. He recognized us as such after we transformed as well."  
  
"How did you do it? Transform, I mean."  
  
"That's the tricky part, Simon. Technically I'm not supposed to have the power to transform. It's called Animagination. It's a difficult process, very dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. We were young and stupid, and brilliant if I may say so, and somehow managed it without killing ourselves. But the thing about an Animagus is that, by wizard law, he must be registered. I am not registered. And now, here I am. I am an illegal Animagus and Headmaster of this school. Do you see how that could cause problems for me?"  
  
Simon nodded, then changed his mind and shook his head, bewildered.  
  
"In reality," Sirius explained, "most of the wizarding world knows about my power now. But if the students found out that I obtained them while a student here myself-I'm afraid many of them might think themselves capable of it as well. And, unfortunately most who try will not be. I don't want to have to send a child home to their mother in a body bag filled with unrecognizable furry bits. Now do you understand why you must keep it a secret?"  
  
Simon nodded uncertainly. "I won't tell anyone," he said. "But, Mr. Black, will I be able to bring my dog with me when I come?"  
  
"Technically dogs are not considered an appropriate pet at Hogwarts. But for you," Sirius smiled down at him, "I think we can make an exception."  
  
*****  
  
Harry frowned as he pressed his way through the crowds of shoppers on Diagon Alley. After graduating from Hogwarts he had enjoyed a great deal of freedom from the ever-present gawkers, eager to catch a glimpse or shake the hand of the famous Harry Potter. Sure, he willingly gave them the opportunity on the Quidditch pitch. It was part of the job-part of the thrill. But when he changed his Quidditch robes for jeans, t-shirt, and tennis shoes, he preferred that they all leave him alone.  
  
So he avoided trips to Diagon Alley, with its rows of wizard shops and its hordes of wizards and witches doing their shopping. But today Roxanne had insisted. She was going in to London and invited him along. He needed the distraction, needed to make contact with the muggle world once in a while- needed him to help her carry all the stuff she was going to buy, most likely.  
  
But he followed along anyway. He was relieved when they finally stepped onto the sidewalk outside the door of the Leaky Cauldron. This portal between muggledom and the wizard world was too popular with the "Oh-look- Mabel-It's-Harry-Potter!" crowd. Instead Harry and Roxanne stopped for lunch at a brightly lit muggle pub that grilled up the best hamburgers in Britain.  
  
"It's nice to be ignored," said Harry brightly, before biting into his huge hamburger. It was smothered with cheese and onions and mushroom and was far too large for his mouth.  
  
Roxanne took a knife and fork to hers, cutting off bite-sized pieces. "Ignored? What about the girls?" she asked. "You don't want them to ignore you, do you?"  
  
Harry snorted. "If I thought one of them was looking at me for my fetching eyes and rugged good looks I might not mind. But all they see is 'Harry Potter, boy wonder.' How am I supposed to find a girl that likes me for who I am, not what I am? Ron stole away the only one I can trust."  
  
Roxanne nodded and shrugged. "Then you're dead set against dating muggles?"  
  
"Roxanne," he protested, "what would we have to talk about? Quidditch? Transfiguration? 'No. Sorry. I can't give you my phone number. I don't have one. But I'll tell you the name of my owl if you'd like.'"  
  
"Talk about astrology," she suggested. "Talk about the stars, or the moon, or the weather. Tell her you're interested in mythology. Tell her-"  
  
"Roxanne!" He was growing exasperated "OK. Let's say I meet a really great muggle girl. We date for a while. I somehow find a way to speak to her without sounding like a paranoid schizophrenic who believes fairy tales are real. How am I supposed to convince her they are real and keep her around long enough to make a go of it? I can't lie to a woman her whole life. I'd have to tell her sometime. Exactly how and when do I do that?"  
  
"My father did."  
  
"Did what?"  
  
"Lied to a woman her whole life-two of them actually," said Roxanne grimly.  
  
"Yes, but look what he gave up to do it. I'm not willing to do that-not to myself, and not to her. The magical world has been everything to me. It saved me from a fate worse than death. I won't give it up. Not for a woman."  
  
"Have you thought about trying another country? America? China?" Roxanne asked.  
  
"I've been to all those places. The gawking doesn't change-only the features on the faces," Harry grumbled.  
  
"Look, Harry. Muggles find out about the magical world all the time. Hermione's family, me, Simon," Roxanne reasoned. "A girl in love can adapt just as easily, don't you think? And talk about the ultimate test of love- 'By the way, darling. I want you to forget everything you ever thought you believed about the world,'" Roxanne said, imitating Harry's accent rather poorly. "If she doesn't stick around she obviously wasn't the right one."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Maybe," he conceded.  
  
"And you want to know how and when to tell her? I've decided that there's no better time than as soon as possible, and no better way than to just get it over with in one breath and pick up the pieces later."  
  
Harry shrugged again.  
  
"Come on, Harry. What's the worst that could happen? You can always have Arthur Weasley put a memory charm on her and no one ever has to know you made a fool of yourself."  
  
Harry smiled. "Do you think he would?"  
  
"Who Arthur? For you? Of course!" 


	5. Where to go from here

WHERE TO GO FROM HERE?  
  
I'm sorry to say, but I will probably never finish this fic. So why publish it? Well, I was hoping someone out there might want to do it for me. I simply do not have the time. I am in the midst of bringing my own original novel to fruition (I'm working on chapter 34 and am only a few chapters away from completing it), as well as teaching my oldest child and taking care of life in general. I simply do not have the time to devote to The Son of the Mark.  
  
So, if you decided to take up the challenge, there are a few conditions, however, you are in no way obligated to stick to them:  
  
Keep it relatively clean-no serious sex or swearing. Violence is OK. A well-written rape scene would be OK (read below). Keep it within the PG-13 range.  
  
If you are to undertake this challenge you will most likely want to read my first (and completed) fanfic-The Mark of War-for background information.  
  
If you take up the challenge, let me know so I can read what you've come up with. Contact me through the review feature on The Son of the Mark and let me know the title you intend to publish under.  
  
Below are my notes on where I intended this fic to go from here. Take what you want, reject what you don't.  
  
Roxanne discovers she is pregnant. She and Sirius weren't planning on any more but what can she do now? She reluctantly tells Sirius about it, expecting him to be upset. But he, as any real man is, is ecstatic. Men just have this thing about a connection between fertility and virility.  
  
Unfortunately, as it will turn out, the baby is not Sirius's. It belongs to the rogue werewolf. Who is the rogue werewolf? Draco Malfoy of course. And of course this won't be found out until well into the book. He has been manipulated by his mother to infect himself with lycanthropy (werewolfism), then infect others and build himself an army of werewolves. He works directly in opposition to Roxanne's efforts to deregulate and normalize the werewolf population. He seeks to sabotage her efforts to find a cure. He seeks to undermine her efforts to help werewolves gain acceptance in the magical community. So how did she become pregnant? Well, remember that night she and Hermione spent in Diagon Alley? The girls' day of shopping? Draco came to her, placed her under a memory charm, transported her out of her room at the inn and raped her. His horrible mother watched the whole thing. Roxanne finds out when she is about 7 months pregnant (around January) and volunteers to help Professor Flitwick demonstrate memory charms and how to undo them. In the middle of class the memory charm Malfoy placed her under is undone and the memories flood back. She is horrified and anguished of course, and doesn't know how to tell Sirius or what to do about the baby! It's far too late for an abortion, but Roxanne would have a difficult time even considering doing that anyway. Why did Narcissa and Draco do this? You have to read The Mark of War to find out.  
  
But what will Sirius's reaction to the baby be? Of course he believes it is his at first. I had thought to keep it that way until the baby is born with silver hair and icy blue eyes, but I liked the idea of the memory charm release in the middle of a class. I had not decided exactly what Sirius' reaction will be. Have fun with that.  
  
And Harry's role in all this? Obviously it will be a final confrontation between he and his hated school enemy whom he hasn't seen since Draco left Hogwarts after the death of his father (See The Mark of War on this site).  
  
I had thought of introducing a new character-an aged auror who spent much of his career hunting noncompliant werewolves. He is a dark character who hates werewolves. He knows who Roxanne is, who she was married to, who fathered her twin sons, and detests the work she is doing to fight lycanthropy (werewolfism). But Roxanne finds she has no choice but to ask for his help to track down the rogue. He, better than anyone living, knows the mind of the werewolf-particularly the criminal one.  
  
And the twins? They will go off to school in America, but will become endangered by Draco when he travels there looking for them. He thinks it a fitting revenge against Roxanne to infect she and Remus' sons with the very disease she seeks to put an end to. Can Harry and Sirius and Roxanne save them? Can they protect them? Can they get them out of the U.S. in time? How can they hope to keep them safe and still let them live normal lives?  
  
I thought it an awesome twist to have Snape as Minister of Magic and Sirius as Headmaster. Severus is, as we all really know, a good guy.  
  
So that's it! I hope someone takes the challenge! This might be a good place for an aspiring fanfic fan to get started writing their own! 


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